


cut my name into your lips

by MistyDeath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Broom Cupboard, Explicit Sexual Content, Food, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Smitten Harry Potter, Smut, Thirsty Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyDeath/pseuds/MistyDeath
Summary: Harry can't take it anymore. Seriously. If Malfoy chews on the end of his quill/licks his spoon/sucks on the papercut on his finger one more time, Harry's going to put an end to it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 388
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	cut my name into your lips

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt [#172](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#) of this wonderful FanFair 2020! 
> 
> I was extremely excited to try another go with this fest and I hope it's a good time for everyone. A big thankyou to alwaysparis for the on-the-go beta, truly saved this fic and this author.

Harry wasn’t sure why he thought the way Draco ate was anything to get excited over, let alone something he could be attracted to. In fact, Harry wasn’t sure how he could think anything involving food was attractive. There was good food, sure; but before this morning he’d never had a reaction like that.

It was a strange thought, that for years, he could determine Draco’s moods based off of how he looked during meals, and how he’d probably paid more attention than was necessary to how he behaved during the time. Another thought crossed his mind as he watched the young man reach for tea. It would be earl grey, probably a dash of milk or two, some sugar - but for the life of him Harry could not have told someone how Hermione or Ron took their tea.

To his left, Ron was shoveling several spoonfuls of piping hot oatmeal into his mouth at an alarming rate. It wasn’t pretty, but there was definitely a technique. Over the years, Harry had determined that yes, Ron had developed the habit of eating quickly as a result of having to fight his siblings for it, regardless of however caring Molly was. The quality of it had never been a question. It was the drive to actually be able to eat it.

And as Harry picked at his own leftovers from the morning, he thought back on his own habits. He was similar to Ron in that manner, that yes, food should be eaten as quickly as possible while it was available, but it had taken some time. He could even remember the first few weeks of first year thinking that maybe he should hide some food in his room for later, just in case it didn’t come back. In fact, much like himself and other Muggle-born children, there’d been a sort of fascination and fear of the food presented. A lot of the foods were exciting - magic could come up with an amazing array of pasties and sweets - but some were just plain odd. He could remember numerous times where they’d been provided food that was outright dangerous if you prepped it wrong or timed a bite on an off-moment.

So food could be exciting, and a little scary, for a variety of reasons. But it had never been sexual.

Not until a crisp, cold morning in October.

\---

Draco went about his normal breakfast routine before classes. Or as normal as it could be given the circumstances. He’d gotten used to the routine by now. Get up, get dressed, and set his shoulders before walking out to the Great Hall and ignoring any stares or commentary as he sat down. Alone.

Schedules had never been a priority for him, only that he was able to take the classes he needed to graduate. With his status being less than subpar at the Slytherin table, he’d found himself dreadfully alone in the mornings - Goyle hadn’t returned. Pansy and Blaise would often be around for lunch or dinner times, but neither had bothered to try for a morning class to make up. Or rather, they hadn’t needed to, both pre- and post-War situations not calling for their academic prowess.

So Draco had gone about his time hiding in the mornings. And, as hyper aware that he was, he could always, always feel Potter’s eyes on him. It had happened a couple of times, the awkward eye-catch that had resulted in them struggling to infantilize the situation and stick their tongues out at one another and yet both sharing a ghastly, ghastly reminder that no, it wasn’t there. So curt nods, or dismissive shakes of the head became the norm.

Despite what he’d often said loudly, and at large, Draco found the food very agreeable. It wasn’t the refined meals that his family used to eat, nor could he expect them to be. But summer's past spent in fear had definitely taught him to be grateful. And he was.

It would take more than a fleet of Aurors to knock that out of him.

Two flicks of his wand and he’d had a cup of tea stirring itself at his elbow. Careful not to dip his hands into any of the jams or condiments ahead, he’d pulled in some toast and butter. This was a strange bit of shame for him. Draco had been perfectly fine with most kitchen spells, having spent some of his childhood trying to imitate the way the elves set things, determined to be worth more than someone set in a rag beside him. But he’d never been able to get rid of some strange acrid flavor when it came to spreading or mixing dairy. It drove him insane for years until he’d finally given up and done it the Muggle way. He blinked. Human way, he supposed.

Draco flinched, skin tingling, why - he’d dipped his wrist into the butter.

With a flick of the eyes down the table to make sure no one was watching, he’d dropped his mouth down to the side to lap at it. In that moment, the feeling of being watched increased and dread crept its way up his spine. The glance to the left and right still told him no one was paying any particular attention so, who -

Draco glanced across the tables and yes. Harry Potter was staring at him. Rather intently, and awkwardly now that he’d been caught staring at Draco licking his wrist.

Something drove him to do the insane. He kept his eyes locked with Potter, and pulled his mouth back. The oil was still smothered on his lips so he slipped his tongue back out to catch it and Potter flushed darker than Weasley on a bad day.

Not a moment later the Gryffindor got up and fled the hall.

The dread that had slipped itself up Draco’s spine threatened to fill the rest of him. Heart in his throat, Draco threw a glance down and - no, it was his right hand. He wasn’t sick enough to do such a thing to his left (he’d almost pulled his shoulder several times trying to avoid using the entire arm), but what on Earth could have offended Potter so much?

* * *

Harry had braced himself for endless teasing or at the very least a mocking comment the moment he’d slipped into the Charms classroom. The rational part of his brain assured him that it honestly didn’t matter but it was still embarrassing as hell to be caught openly staring at Malfoy. Let alone to blush at the sight of - of whatever the hell the Slytherin had been doing to his wrist. He’d not even had a second to think about it. One moment Harry had been having breakfast and mulling about leaving for class, the next he’d been flooded with a burning spiral of heat at the sight of Malfoy’s lips sucking at whatever he’d spilled on his wrist.

Even as he sat down and tried to shake the thought from his head Harry could feel another pulse of want go through him. It was entirely too uncomfortable. Nothing about Charms should be erotic - especially not when Flitwick was motioning something complicated in front of him. Harry paled at the combination.

“Mate, are you okay?” Ron asked, setting his things down. “You bolted out of the Hall.”

“Mmm yeah, I’m fine. Thought I’d forgotten something, but I found it halfway and just thought I’d come straight down.”

“Flitwick’s not going to hang you for being late if you had.”

Harry shrugged, still not comfortable with any level of special treatment.

Silent casting and advanced manipulations of various charms they’d learned over the years were par for the course these days. Although they had significantly improved a vast number of them, Flitwick still managed to find some charms here and there that threw the group for a loop. No House showed any particular skill in these classes, and for once Harry was grateful they all seemed to struggle together.

Unfortunately for Harry, they were partnered with those sitting directly across them in the classroom. That put him with Malfoy, who was sat back in his chair, eying him expectantly.

Harry had no idea what to write, so he scrawled a hasty picture of a snitch on the page and tapped it, imagining the parchment becoming locked. It seemed to be shut, and he sent it over to Malfoy, nearly knocking into Flitwick on the way.

Although the rest of the classroom was moving, everyone paying attention to their own attempts, Harry still felt nervous. 

The blonde pulled it apart after a couple of tries, tapping it almost carelessly and looking down at the sketch.

From the look he received from Malfoy, it wasn’t his best work, nor enough to distract the wizard from this morning. In fact, now Malfoy seemed curious, hands drumming the sides of the desk impatiently.

“Ah, well, a sure fire attempt, Mr. Potter. Now, Mr. Malfoy, would you care to try?” And trust Malfoy to go a step further, he didn't touch his own supplies and nodded towards Harry's things.

The parchment in front of Harry began to tremble a bit, and he watched as letters started to form themselves into words across it, but they were moving too quickly for his eyes to catch. Either way, he didn’t have long to read before it wound itself up tight, sealed.

He blinked, and then looked up. At Flitwick’s insistence, he gripped it and tried to pull the paper apart, to no avail. Much like with the other students, Harry gave it a few taps before letting the professor try to undo the spell.

Nothing happened. “Well done, Mr. Malfoy. Perfect execution.”

Malfoy gave a small nod in response. He returned to his textbook in front of him, clearly eager to get the attention away from his person.

Ron muttered something to the left of him under his breath and earned himself the next demonstration. Harry was rightfully distracted as he watched his friend execute the same spell. The new wand certainly helped, Harry thought as he watched it float away. Ron sent something over to Roper, who seemed quite unimpressed with whatever he’d written. 

As he saw Flitwick motion to take the paper away from her, Harry tucked his own into his bag. 

Later that night, when he was alone, Harry dumped the contents of his bag out onto his bed. Shuffling the books and quills into a corner by his nightstand, he saw Malfoy’s scroll again. More than curious, Harry grabbed it, and found it still wrapped tight. He was momentarily tempted to bin it, it was after all only a spare bit of parchment.

So he tossed it to the side, only to watch it unroll itself and start to slip down the bed onto the floor. Harry lunged for it, silently cursing his Seeker reflexes for making him so embarrassingly obvious. 

Harry half expected to see something similar to the sketch he’d received in third-year. But he was disappointed, flattening it out to reveal the terrifyingly elegant scrawl for both a seventh year boy and a silently cast spell.

_What the hell were you on about this morning?_

The heat was back again, only this time it spread across his face. Harry grit his teeth and chucked the note in the bin. It meant nothing. Just a side trick to get Harry to mess up - for some reason or other.

Except it didn’t stay that way.

* * *

He’d planned to avoid Potter the entirety of the school year. Despite the very vicious scolding his mother had given him upon voicing the idea, Draco had started it off with no need to see or hear from the boy ever again. And then Potter had undone himself at breakfast. 

Prior to The Incident Draco had also never considered himself a messy eater. Looking around the tables at large, he could often spot dozens of boys behaving towards food in a manner he found repulsive. Although there was something to be said about age differences, there were instances where that simply didn’t matter. 

The entirety of sixth year was a blur to him. Draco, to this day, couldn’t remember much past a few weeks towards the end of it. He’d been so paranoid he doubted he’d acted in a manner most considered normal. And now - now he wasn’t sure how to act. He’d copied Blaise for the majority of it, eyes staring down anyone who dared to comment. It worked. 

Draco had had to endure Blaise’s teasing, but he’d shouldered it. Dishing out softer remarks than was expected, toeing a line in public he wasn’t sure he was allowed to cross. For a long while it seemed that he was faring better than Pansy.

For the life of him, Draco couldn’t understand why she returned. Or how she’d been allowed _to_ return. The girl was easily spooked, booking down halls or behind doors if he went anywhere near her.

Being the nosy prat that he was, Draco had gone about trying to suss something out of other Slytherin girls. That hadn’t worked out well. He’d actually had a mild breakdown over the event, sitting in his bed wondering why on earth Greengrass had decided to grow a spine this year of all years.

“ _You’re_ honestly worried. You, Malfoy? Since when did you give a rat’s arse about her?” She’d shoved him to the side without another glance and ran off.

That had left Draco rather alone. More than he’d like to admit. But, given the circumstances, Draco kept his frustrations to himself.

So with what little spare time they had starting the year off, he’d gone outside. Studying outside or snacking somewhere wasn’t uncommon. Often enough his usual spots were open, and he would settle against a tree or in one of the many excessive archways around the grounds and eat with an essay in his lap.

This may, or may not, have been the reason why Blaise considered him a messy eater. Draco had cast more stain cleaning spells in the past two months than he’d done in his entire life. After getting kicked out of the library with one of the nastiest glare’s he’d _ever_ seen from Pince, Draco had given up. He’d finally gotten the hang of writing an essay on one knee and eating with his left hand one evening when Potter had knocked him through the archway he was perched on.

One moment Draco was leaning against the wall, the next his knee was being bashed into and his whole equilibrium was being thrown back and down to the stone floor below. Someone over the edge of it had had a similar event. They let out a pained groan before jumping up.

“Always look before running, I am - I’m so - _Malfoy_?”

Draco had his eyes crossing a moment later when a hand shot out in front of him. 

“You’re sure you’re alright? You don’t - “ “Don’t even dare point your wand at me. I’m not - I’m fine.”

Potter considered him for a moment. “You’re fine?” The disbelief in his voice made something crack in Draco’s mind, but he ignored it. Potter didn’t care - he just was pointing out the obvious.

“Mhmm...yep,” he drew out the word slowly, tongue absentmindedly coming out to flick at a cut. Blood. Cherry. Interesting combination. Potter froze again, and Draco titled his head up, still dazed.

“Really, _really_ sorry about the essay I - I have to go. Uh - see you later!” He sucked on his teeth and ran away, leaving Draco standing there covered in food and down a Charms essay.

Draco considered the distance to the Hospital Wing versus his bed, and all the wonderful variables of getting there before passing out, or possibly getting out of class. As he gathered his things, his leg decided on bed. It wouldn’t look good if he was late to class, but making his way to Pomphrey only for her to possibly deny treatment wasn’t worth the seven flights of stairs to get there.

-

The look on Potter’s face the next morning when he licked at the cut repeatedly during class was worth the massive headache. There was something going on there, and he’d get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Harry never considered himself an early riser but he found himself wishing more and more that he was. The appeal of eating without having to witness Malfoy’s erotic displays was becoming higher and higher the longer it went on.

What was worse was that he couldn’t even confront him on it. Social pressures aside, cornering Malfoy to ask him why he was doing this to Harry was a no go. Even he recognized that. What would he even ask Malfoy, ‘Hey I think you’re trying to seduce me via spoon licking. Please stop it.’?

Even more threatening to Harry’s sanity was that this was creeping into his free time. He wouldn’t call it stalking, no. If asked, he would vehemently deny it.

Harry had spent too much time reveling in the sight of Malfoy’s mouth. He’d never considered kissing. Kissing. Hesitantly he pressed his thumb to his mouth, rubbing it along his lips. It felt wrong. Harry’s hands were far too calloused from Quidditch, and even if they hadn’t been, he didn’t think his fingers could feel as soft.

He sat in the library for nearly an hour lost in thought; his own kissing experience was fairly limited. Far more so if he considered how many boys he’d kissed. It made something warm spread across his stomach when Harry considered that maybe Malfoy was the same. Malfoy still seemed confused at Harry’s actions, even if he continued to taunt him during meals.

Surely the prat couldn’t be that oblivious. Or worse, he couldn’t be that innocent.

* * *

Walking down the halls in the dark used to be exciting for Draco. But as he walked back from a session in a spare classroom, he was tense. He was far too alert to be caught off guard by a Prefect, or a Professor at this hour. Not that Draco was up to anything overt.

He’d walked past a flickering lamp when Draco felt, and heard, someone when there wasn’t a soul about. Draco was too tired for this.

“Potter take the fucking cloak off and stop _following_ me.” He heard the smallest inhale and then the footsteps retreated. “Actually - wait - I said _wait_. I want to talk.”

After a moment where Draco felt a fool for talking to thin air, Potter’s head appeared, eyes looking back at him, clearly edging to get away. Perfect.

“What the hell are you staring at me for every morning. I’ve not - I’ve not done _anything_.”

Potter was silent for so long Draco walked over to him. He didn’t even have to say anything, the other teen couldn’t meet his eyes. But he didn’t move under the cloak again, floating head as disconcerting as it was.

“You’re a distraction. When you eat.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “When I eat.” It wasn’t a question, and Potter just seemed to burn an even brighter red at the insinuation. 

“Yeah. It’s - your mouth, uh,” he seemed to want to look anywhere else, which truly, Draco couldn’t understand given the last twenty minutes, “when you eat, you look...nice.”

Draco appreciated the fact that Potter appeared to want to disappear, but didn’t. Damn Gryffindors. 

“You think I look nice,” he repeated, rolling the word in his mouth like he couldn’t believe it. “I’ve _always_ looked nice,” to which Potter huffed out a laugh, “since when do you care if I -” That wouldn’t make sense - it couldn’t. There wasn’t - 

Draco worried at the stupid cut on his mouth again and Potter let out another huff, frustrated and looking at him like he’d rather punch him.

“Oh Merlin, you _actually_ do,” he wanted to laugh but he couldn’t, it was all too surreal. “What - what am I _even_ \- “ Someone’s footsteps were coming down the hallway. Draco felt Potter move his body - hand haphazardly disappearing into the air as he was tugged through a door that came out of nowhere. 

It was a broom cupboard, and Potter had him pinned. Draco relaxed, eyes still adjusting to the new light, heart hammering as someone walked past. Five seconds. Ten. His brain hadn’t quite caught up when Potter pushed forward in the low light and kissed him.

Draco had no sense of where to hold him, held immobile against the door behind them and forced to concentrate on the kiss and nothing else. He wanted to melt, wanted to simply sink into the warmth, the relief that he offered with his lips. Someone had to be proud of him for it; Malfoy’s lived off indulgences and dared others to deny them things, it simply wasn’t done.

So as much as it pained him, Draco pulled away and took great pleasure in the dazed look on his rival’s face. The only thing worth looking at. Watched Potter chase Draco’s body heat, face tilting slightly forward as if unsure - and _oh_.

The eyes shining up at him weren’t - that wasn’t... Potter’s eyes didn’t even try to meet his, they simply stayed at half-mast. Lidded, heavy things that stared, once more, at his mouth.

Want. Clear, unadulterated want was everywhere on the flushed face before him. Draco wasn’t sure how long either of them stared at the other, but he was becoming even more intimately familiar with Potter’s fringe and scar than he’d thought possible. How the line etched itself above a currently bunched brow. How his skin split and webbed itself together, sloping over his nose, spotted with a spare freckle or two. Could feel his chest hammering against his own, and felt something heated pressing against his thigh. 

But the slightest inhale had Draco breathing in reality with the smell of burnt sugar, and something he’d only known as Potter. He fell back against the door with a louder sigh.

The noise started the other teen out of his reverie.

He leaned back a bit more, and Potter looked up. Draco did not smirk. He absolutely did not. Whatever he did was better, because Potter blushed. Flushed something pretty even in the dim light of the cupboard.

Draco was blessing all sorts of things today - first Filch for his idiocies and now, the shoddy alarm system that had led to this situation in the first place.

Potter continued to look at him and kept biting his lip, opening his mouth and then closing it again - worrying his lower lip with his teeth and since when did Draco even -

“Did you like that?”

“Huh?” Smooth as silk.

His eyes were looking down again, off somewhere below Draco’s shoes and he personally couldn’t think of anything less fascinating by his feet. But Potter cleared his throat - possibly choked on his own tongue from the sound of it, which, wonderful. “Did you like that - the kiss?”

“Ye - yeah. I did.”

That was good. It was good. They were good. Draco blinked again, entirely too aware of Potter’s eyes on him. He had to look anywhere else, because his eyes were still on Draco’s mouth and that was - that was too much for him to understand at that moment. His hands tapped the edges of the door he was against.

“I should go - we should - we need to leave before someone gets back.” 

That did it. Lust sapped out of Potter’s eyes and everything snapped back into focus. Draco wouldn’t call it cold, he’d seen Potter be cold towards him - this wasn’t that. No, it was more, more considering. Frightened, almost.

Potter cleared his throat. “Right, then just - “ he didn’t raise his eyes again, and only made to push Draco to the side. He slid open the door. Draco pretended a chill didn’t go up his back. Ignored the warmth he wanted to lean into. “It’s clear. I’ll...I’ll see you around, then.”

Draco momentarily touched his fingers to his lips before he dropped them. He flicked his eyes across the hall, watching for Potter. He didn’t even know if he’d left. The stalker was probably still around, he wouldn’t be seen fantasizing. At that thought, Draco strode as quickly as he could down the stairs, heart racing.

Was that something that Draco even wanted?

And better yet, how the hell was he meant to get back to the dorms without that blasted cloak?

-

Harry spent the next few days avoiding Malfoy. At all costs. He looked at other boys, watched their faces and their eating habits just to see. Fortunately or not, Harry found that there was nothing attractive about the way Gryffindor boys ate. Or Hufflepuffs. Or, after searching enough, anyone else.

A Quidditch match and five classes later, Harry was certain it was just Malfoy.

Only the pink of Malfoy’s tongue, his bitten lips pouting as he stared down his essay, sent all the blood in Harry’s brain to his cock. Just the thought of _something_ smeared across those lips had Harry pulsing in his trousers.

So Harry managed to catch Malfoy alone again, hand wrapped around the back of his own neck as he stuttered forward almost as painfully as the first time.

The second meeting was nearly as awkward, if only because Malfoy appeared to be caught off guard, again. The third had been a total disaster, anger getting the better of the two of them. But it had led to the fourth, with Harry sitting on a hidden alcove in the grounds, with Malfoy next to him.

His head was laid on the grass, body curled close, but not close enough for Harry’s liking. Just the slightest warmth offered in the fall air.

Harry’s hand trailed down Malfoy’s side lightly as he tilted this way and that to catch his mouth. Feather light presses against his body, but his mouth was clearly saying something else. His thumb caught against Malfoy’s stomach and he felt the other teen shift towards him, hips hitching forward.

Malfoy pulled back to take a breath and rolled to his side, hair no longer smooth but nicely tousled and possibly grass stained.

“Okay, okay _yeah_. I liked that.”

“Good to hear.” Harry caught Malfoy’s considering glance at his trousers and considered it a win.

* * *

Towards the end of breakfast on Saturday, Draco was sat with a cup of tea. His lips carefully sipped at the hot liquid he’d brewed, eyes carefully darting across, searching. 

Now that Draco knew what it meant to Potter, what it did to him, he was a nightmare. Before he’d just thought it was being caught staring that was what bothered him. No. Now he knew that Potter got turned on at the sight of him. Eating in the morning with all the other students of all times.

When he remembered the dazed, glossy lip look that he’d given a couple of weeks ago, Draco could see the appeal. A student next to him knocked his elbow, and he frowned, shouldering them off as they knocked him out of his fantasy. Blaise cuffed the younger man across his head, and Draco settled back in, hand brushing the cut above his lip.

He couldn’t imagine himself having that - that _look_. Let alone over food. Draco would say he’d always been easily flustered and rattled by Potter, but he couldn’t imagine showing _that_ much emotion on his face.

But Potter - no, he mused, _Harry’s_ eyes told another story when looking over Granger’s shoulder. He might seem dazed, ruffled by the morning activities, but no. Harry was lost, face flushing when Draco met his eyes and winked, tongue dipping out along the edge of the cup at sugar. 

\---

If magic hadn’t already determined that yes, Harry did have the ability to fly, he’d have nothing to compare it to. But kissing Draco less than twenty minutes past the teacup incident was like walking on air, floating somewhere higher than the rest of the world.

He’d been thrown backwards into his bed, body still covered by the invisibility cloak. 

“Did you seriously brush your teeth between here and the Hall?”

Malfoy pulled back, hair a mess, panting. “Did you seriously want to taste lox and tea this morning? I don't even want that around.” He shoved at Harry’s legs and pushed him back up the bed before diving back in, not waiting for a response before pushing quite possibly the softest lips imaginable against his. 

He couldn’t get enough of it. They weren’t even properly snogging, now that he came to think of it. Or maybe Harry had been negatively influenced by Gryffindor mating habits. Who knew. But it couldn’t compare to what he’d seen Ron and Hermione do previously. Hell, Harry didn’t even think snogging Ginny had felt like this. He wasn’t sure what on Earth it was.

Harry shivered. He was starting to think he wasn’t a proper teenager. Featherlight touches on each other’s arms shouldn’t be enough to make him dizzy. Hair tickling his forehead shouldn’t turn him on.

Maybe it was the thrill of doing something forbidden. Not that it was frowned upon. Not that he’d not found several boys or girls doing exactly the same thing around campus more than enough times. But it was Malfoy. He’d always been fascinated by the prat, always felt that there was something worth noticing.

Always noticing his hair, his fucking eyes - who had Harry been kidding? Ron and Hermione had been right on, with the stalking. Everyone had - even if no one had listened at the right time.

Draco had always been in his periphery. Always a constant source of - of irritation, aggravation, humiliation. That could be why he was going insane. Why his nerves felt like they were on fire every time. Everything in his body was screaming at him to run away. Except his head (and his cock) had definitely vetoed it.

Harry had never been allowed to touch. And now he could. Touched as reverently as he was allowed, as eagerly as he could, catching everything and anything Draco gave him.

Grey eyes stared at him levelly as he worked his way down Draco’s chest, hands idling on the sides, fisted in robes scattered now about them. It never failed to amaze Harry how Draco would never stop looking. Initially he thought he’d be ashamed but no - no the scarring against his lips almost turned Harry on.

Anything to get Draco’s mouth open and panting. Just a ghost of a breath, inhaled quickly and held on to as long as he could. Harry’s eyes meeting his always got his legs tensed beneath him, his hips thrust against the warm body above or beside him. If Harry stared for too long, he’d end up pulled back against that mouth, only too happy to swallow the moans back as his body was made into a mold designed to end Draco. 

* * *

It was late. The evening before they broke for the holidays. Heat licked at the sides of Harry's legs from the fires burning their way to ashes in the kitchens as he kicked them out against a counter. 

Settled quite nicely between them, Draco very, very slowly licked his lips in front of Harry. The cream was very, very sweet. Not overly thick, not sickly sweet. He barely had time to consider it, Harry was so close to him.

“Want a taste?”

He’d barely gotten a nod out of the other before his lips were being sucked, pulled between Harry’s, a careful tongue making a light, soft tap at the sweetness transferred over. Draco sighed, gradually opening his mouth more, letting the sweet heat of Harry’s mouth melt into the surrounding berry flavours, feeling himself lean into the arm offered to him.

“Hmmm.”

“Any guesses?”

Harry was more preoccupied with the soft wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes. His gaze swept over Draco’s face, pondering. Apparently for too long, because Draco leaned in and nipped at his lips again. “Hello, Harry?”

“Hmmm?”

“Guess? Or are you too fascinated by my face?” Even as he said it, his face flushed. The prat would probably blame it on the fire next to them if Harry said something. He briefly licked over his own lips, his mouth again, trying to get a feel for it.

It was some sort of a berry, he knew that much. But Harry was utter rubbish at which one, he’d never had a particular flavor he liked. Just. Berries were sweet things.

“Blackberries?” Draco’s face said he lost with a slight lilt of his lips, still coated with a sight sheen of -

“Not even close, it’s - ah - would you - “ Harry had placed his thumb just inside Draco’s mouth, smearing the remainder of it across his lips. Grey eyes considered him, both enticed and confused at the motion. Draco dropped his mouth open more, letting Harry essentially pet his tongue, apparently fascinated with whatever Harry’s eyes were doing at the sight. “Would you prefer I be sucking something else, Potter?”

Harry wasn’t even sure. Just the feel of it was enough to get his cock going. He shifted his hips restlessly, trying to get comfortable as it twitched against the front of his slacks. “Possibly,” he sighed, “this is pretty comfortable, however.”

Hands never left Draco’s side as he ducked down a moment, thighs spreading apart to make the distance between them smaller. Harry sighed, letting the sight before him sink into his brain.

He didn’t miss the narrowed eyes at the cock presented to the cheek, not mouth, presented to him. “Harry, what are you - that’s not sanitary.”

“It’s about to go into your mouth and you’re worried about me rubbing it on your cheek?”

Draco’s pouted lips as Harry touched his cock to his cheek definitely made the look worth it. “Do you want me to suck your cock or not?”

“I do - just - let me look a little.” 

“You want to - gah - look with your cock? That’s new, Potter. Even for you.” Draco’s face scrunched up a little, but the feel of his cheeks, the soft plush of his lips as Harry passed the tip teasingly over them to the other side - was heaven.

Harry continued, humming thoughtfully every so often, stroking himself leisurely. He was more than happy to let this go on for hours, as long as Draco would allow. Seeing Draco throw him impatient looks had him pulsing fat drips he wanted to smear into his skin. Let it sit there.

Draco wasn’t a slut for cock, he’d never considered himself one. He’d definitely suck Harry’s cock. He’d done it before, and would happily do it again. But this - this weird teasing, the strange _look_ that was stuck on Harry’s face - it made him spread his legs a little more, shift them open as he pushed his face up against the fat tip smearing bits of precum against his face. Marking him. His eyes twitched.

“Harry - _Harry_ \- Harry I’m not doing this because I’m not _not_ yours if that makes sense.” 

He dropped his mouth open, happy to sit back on his feet and let Harry fuck his face. Barely catching a taste of what was going to flood his mouth soon, surely. Draco let his tongue rock back and forth occasionally, licked what he could of the shaft as Harry slid in and out. Pulled all the way out, tip suckled ever so slightly between his lips, tongue barely able to lap at the slick slit provided.

The weight of Harry’s cock in his mouth made him throb in his pants. Hands scrabbled at his hair, pulling, pressing just the barest hint of nails into his scalp and scratched at something deep in Draco. He moaned around him and dropped his jaw more, letting Harry slide freely to the back of his throat, eyes watering up at the pressure.

“Merlin you look so hot right now,” Harry groaned. “Just - bloody _perfect_ , Draco,” another thrust, “with me in your mouth.”

Draco could taste the precum leaking into his mouth, being spread against his tongue before being shoved further back into his mouth. His throat was hot, becoming tense as it was pressed at again and again. When he was given the chance Draco sucked, lips pushed to the tip and not letting Harry move as he flicked his tongue again and again against the slit, dipping into it and watching him writhe above him. They fought. Of a sort. 

“Going to - going to cum,” he rasped. Draco let his mouth slack, and felt the length of Harry’s cock tense against his tongue as it pumped cum down his throat. Idly horny but entirely too tired to do anything about it, Draco licked Harry through his orgasm as he lazily palmed his own hardness. 

A gasp made its way out of Draco’s throat as Harry pulled himself loose, hands twitching as he became oversensitive. He let the tip press itself loosely against his lips once more, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

Sated and with warmth flooding through his veins, Harry slumped against the taller form in front of him. He heard Draco huff, and then felt them be slowly lowered to the hearth in front of the fire. “Hmm...Happy Holidays.”

Draco coughed a moment, licking his lips and cringing some, eyes glancing around the area for something to wash the taste away. He had a lap full of Harry and a bitter, bitter reminder of what just transpired.

He almost wanted to push Harry away, jaw sore and eyes still watering but he couldn’t. Not with that _face_ looking at him again. “Thank you…that was wonderful,” he sighed, eyes closed. Draco laughed against the lips pressing lightly to his. “You’re more than welcome.”

Harry pressed his mouth to the scar on Draco’s lip, and Draco sighed again, more than content to lay together until the holiday started. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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